We sat in the folding chairs in the cafeteria, waiting for the play to begin. Our granddaughter’s junior high had been practicing for months on their musical “Beauty and the Beast Junior.” We’d been hearing about the ups and downs of rehearsals, but there was always an excitement in her voice about the production.

And then it was opening night.

Little girls dressed in Belle costumes. Fidgety toddlers climbed in and out of laps up and down the row, and no one minded a bit.

White-haired grandparents waited excitedly for the lights to come up, and some brothers and sisters idly played on their phones, obviously dragged along by their parents to see sister or brother perform.

The lights dimmed and three young teens came onto the stage. The costumes were made by the students, with help from some parents, and the sets were also designed, painted and constructed by the students.

Nothing looked second-rate or hand-made. These young thespians took us on a journey with Belle and the Beast, their energy infectious. People laughed at the right times, clapped at the right times and, I’ll admit, we all teared up at the right times.

These teens immersed themselves in their roles and captured our hearts along the way.

We owe a debt to fine arts teachers who see the potential in our children. Our family can never repay retired theatre teacher Wanda Harrell. She coaxed a winning performance from two of our sons.

I will never forget sitting in the audience at Garcia Middle School and literally pulling back in awe when our middle son strode across the stage as Daddy Warbucks.

We had no clue he liked acting and no idea he could sing that well.

I attended every performance and cried through the entire last one. Those were tears of joy that my son had found something he liked and tears of gratitude for the teacher who nurtured our son to shine on the stage.

She did so with our youngest son as well and turned his buck-the-system personality into Harry McAfee, a conservative, jacket-wearing father. I saw every one of his performances and cried through the entire last one, just as I had for his brother.

There’s so much pressure on teachers and students to do well on standardized tests.

Achieve a 100 on math tests, make sure they’re in advanced classes and apply for college early and often.

We forget that kids need more than numbers on a test report.

They should learn to work with their hands to create art, sculptures and rocking chairs.

They benefit when they learn how to sing with their peers or play an instrument.

Their lives are enriched when they know how to bake, speak a different language or work behind the scenes for a theatrical performance.

They can learn to watch the cues and quietly change a stage from a forest to a castle in the dark and in minutes. Many will find they love creating a costume or transforming someone’s face from a person to a candle stick.

Scoring a 100 on a test is satisfying, but that feeling only lasts until the next test.

Watching an audience jump to their feet and applause with enthusiasm is a feeling that lasts all one’s life.

Fine arts classes nurture confidence, and that nurturing is even more important for those who struggle with academics. Students find success behind the curtain, behind the camera and behind a table saw.

And that’s what education is all about.

Thank you, fine-arts teachers, for giving our young people the opportunity to experience the nuances of life for those are what give us long-lasting satisfaction and joy.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.